Quest For The Rings
by Adularia
Summary: On a quest for a lost ring of power,Legolas,Gandalf,Rorimac,Aceleniel,&Tarrodwen form a fellowship; battling death, the sea, and a dread island's corrupt kingCH. 12 UP!And the plot thickens!
1. On The Ship

FIRST INSTALLMENT FOR QUEST FOR THE RINGS  
  
1: ON THE SHIP  
It was a hurt so intense it cut my heart. I could hardly bare the wait until it came. As awful as it would be, the waiting and not knowing ate at me until I felt utterly sick. It would tear him apart, and that would destroy me. I could hear them in the room next to me, I knew exactly what they were doing, and I wanted to die right then and there. The thought of her in his arms sharing a love I had no part of, while I sat in absolute misery, constricted my throat and made my sobs come in uneven, choking spurts. That was not the worst of it, I knew what was coming, and he did not. I could not even think of what he would do when it happened. She was going to die, I had seen it, like I had seen a million other visions on a million other people, and it would come true.   
  
Legolas' soft, musical voice drifted over to me through the walls of my cabin, so gentle and full of devotion. I clearly imagined the loving half-smile that would be playing upon his lips at this very moment, and I wanted to cry. I wanted him to look into my eyes with that passionate look on his face and tell me that I was the most important person in his life and that he would die should anything ever tear us apart. He had given that vow to another, though, and deep down I knew he would never be mine.  
  
Aceleniel, the beautiful Elvin woman from the Glades, let the lulling roll of the ship sink her into a half-sleep of absolute contentment. Next to her lay the source of this all-encompassing serenity, his vivid blue eyes glowing softly in the flickering candlelight and his pale skin lightly flushed. She loved Legolas with every ounce of her being. Nothing made her happier than being in his tender embrace and simply breathing him in; the faint, sweet scent of morning dew, overlaid with the comforting, omnipresent smell of the forest-of home.   
  
She rolled over and looked deep into those sapphire eyes and smiled. Her heart skipped a beat when he smiled in return, and with his strong arms, drew her closer to him. There they lay together, reveling in the peace each other's presence brought. That serenity was shattered in an instant when an obnoxiously loud knock sounded on the wooden door to their cabin. When it was not immediately answered it became more insistent and impatient.   
  
"A moment, please," Legolas called, as he reluctantly disentangled himself from Aceleniel and slipped out of the bed. Aceleniel grabbed her tunic and breeches and pulled them on with a wistful smile for Legolas as he retrieved and donned his own garments. Pulling his long, silky, blonde hair from beneath his tunic, Legolas tugged open the protesting door and his face met with that of Gandalf. Concern and impatience creased his forehead and his enormous eyebrows knitted together so closely they almost seemed to touch and become one. "What has passed?" Legolas asked, apprehension filling his voice.  
  
"A dark ship, fast approaching, with no lights, it seems to be heading strait towards us and has not responded to any kind of attempted contact. I am afraid we may be attacked. Alert Tarrodwen and Rorimac quickly and tell them to prepare. I am going back to the deck to see if I can be of any help." With no more explanation than that, Gandalf spun on his heel and quickly made his way back up to the deck where the frenzied sounds of movement could be heard.  
  
My head jerked up at the sudden, emphatic knocking on my door. Quickly wiping my eyes on my pillow, I straightened my now hopelessly wrinkled tunic and made my way to the door. I was only impeded by the one chair and small writing desk nailed to the floor to keep from sliding during storms, and I reached the door in a matter of seconds. I was completely surprised to see Aceleniel standing at my door, the rapier loosened in her scabbard, her face painted with a mixture of fear, determination, and urgency. Before I could say a word she blurted,  
  
"We are being followed by a ship that can only mean to attack us. Get ready to fight, Tarrodwen." As she said this a thrill of fear and excitement coursed through my body and eradicated all my previous worries.   
  
"By whom?" I asked earnestly.   
  
"How should I know? Just hurry up and get ready, I'll wait for you and then we can get up there and find out the answers to all our questions." It only hurt me more to see this woman, who was one of my closest friends, and one of my bitterest competitors, standing there with tousled hair and a not-quite-righted tunic. A flash of my previous aching returned to my heart and suddenly, knowing what she had so recently done made me hate her for her beauty and wonderful personality. However, that only lasted an instant, I quickly recovered my bearings and hurriedly pulled on my boots and snatched up my engraved quarterstaff from beside the door. I then leaped out the room and followed Aceleniel up the ladder to the deck.  
  
And then it hit me, full and hard. As soon as I stepped out into the salty, sea air I knew it. It was coming, and it was coming soon. Legolas and Rorimac were already on deck, bow and broadsword ready, muscles tense, and eyes straining on the black ship, sailing ever closer to us. Upon our arrival Rorimac spared a quick glance for us before returning all his concentration to the potential danger ahead. I cast a brief look at Aceleniel and Legolas before taking up my position to the right of Rorimac. My heart felt like lead and my stomach turned violent somersaults until I thought it would surely burst from my skin.   
  
The mysterious ship drew up alongside ours, dark and eerily silent. All aboard our ship waited with tense stances, and a muted hand of dread seem to take hold of the ship and drown all our hearts in terror. Then, suddenly, a single, inhuman cry was raised from the black ship and out poured a wave of hellish orcs, swarming from their deck to encompass ours. 


	2. Aftermath of a Battle

SECOND INSTALLMENT FOR QUEST FOR THE RINGS  
  
2: AFTERMATH OF A BATTLE  
  
Chaos broke out, and before I could think I was taking a defensive stance with my staff against a horribly mutilated orc with strange symbols tattooed in blood red on his baldhead. He fell hard, his cracked skull seeping blood onto the quickly slickening deck. Another immediately took his place, and another after him, until I could no longer keep track and my entire mind was concentrated on felling one orc after another.  
  
It seemed like hours until the area around me ceased to be filled with orcs and I had a chance to look around at my surroundings. Rorimac, with his huge sword, was carving great chunks out of the enemy host. I could feel spurts of pure energy coming from the very fingertips of Gandalf as he blasted orcs back over the edge to their deaths. My companions were tiring now, and my own breath came in ragged gasps that tore at an intense ache in my right side and it took me a minute to calm myself and return my attention to the ghastly scene unfolding before me.  
  
I immediately wished I had not made that searching glance for my companions, for there on the edge of the deck fought Aceleniel, valiantly attempting to halt a three-orc advance. They were gaining on her, and step by reluctant step she was forced back into the railing and towards the gaping maw, the black abyss, that was the sea.  
  
Before my first step toward her was complete, her body suddenly made an unnatural lurch forward and a look of surprise and utter disbelief distorted her lovely features. My eyes followed her own down to her chest, and there, sticking two inches out of her body, was the tip of a barbed, orcish arrow. She attempted to call for Legolas, but the words died on her lips as she began to topple backward, into the unforgiving sea, waiting impatiently to swallow her forever.  
  
At that moment a cry of anguish was ripped from Legolas' heart. "No! Aceleniel!" She looked imploringly toward his voice as she sank from view over the edge of the ship. Possessed, Legolas fought like a madman towards the spot where Aceleniel had disappeared. Rorimac immediately joined him and began callously cleaving a path before the distraught Legolas. Upon reaching the rail of the ship, Legolas leaned ponderously over the side, and only Rorimac's iron grip kept him from following Aceleniel into her watery grave.  
  
It was only then that I realized all the sounds of battle had ended, and the only audible utterance was the groaning of the wounded. The black ship with her evil army was slowly drifting away as silently and mysteriously as it had come. Then, the heartfelt sobs of Legolas rent the air and a deep sadness came over us all. It was more than I could stand. I had seen it happen, twice. I had known it was coming and had been able to do nothing to stop it. The weight of these circumstances, carried for so long in my burdened heart, all broke loose and as my legs turned to jelly beneath me, I sank to the deck and silently sobbed into my hands.  
  
It was amazing to think that all this had come of a simple search. The five of us, Rorimac, Gandalf, Legolas, Aceleniel, and myself, had set out not four weeks ago following a rumor of the surfacing of one of the rings of power. We had been handpicked by Elrond to investigate all leads to the whereabouts of the other nine rings of power. Our journey had so far taken us through confining acres of concealing forest, miles of stretching plains, and presently across vast, stormy seas to the Isle of Geldrion. Now, only a month into our journey, our fellowship was already broken.  
  
For nights on end, lying quietly on my cot, I could hear the broken sobs of Legolas through the walls of my cabin. The very walls I not so long ago hated because of the sounds of happiness that had issued forth. Now I cursed them for allowing in the sounds of dejectedness and utter misery, the sounds I myself had made, not so long ago. I could also hear the slow, weighted tread of tired feet up on deck as they cleaned the ship of the bodies of the vanquished foe—and those of fallen comrades. The funeral had been short, with the traditional prayers of the sailors for mates who had died at sea. Legolas bore it well, with all the quiet Elvin dignity he possessed, but upon reaching his own room, his mourning took him in full and he broke down into painful howls of grief.  
  
A quiet knock on my door interrupted my reverie. "Come in," I called. Gandalf looked more haggard then I had ever seen him, and his eyes were filled with a deep sense of loss and mourning. He stepped in and shut the door with a soft click. Taking his time turning around to face me, he adjusted his robe and removed his large hat. He left his walking stick propped up beside mine, and came and sat down on the bed next to me.  
  
"There was nothing you could have done. It was an accident, no one could have foreseen that she would end up separated from the rest of us during the fighting," he told me soothingly.  
  
"Yes, you're right, no one should have been able to foresee it." I replied, fresh tears rolling down my streaked face. Gandalf must have seen something in my face, or heard it in my voice, because he suddenly took on a scrutinizing look.  
  
"You're leaving something out," he told me, not a question, but a statement, his voice full of razor-sharp suspicion that cut right to the heart of my guilt. A fresh wave of tears swept over me, impeding my speech.  
  
"I… see things," the admission had come quicker and easier than I would have ever thought possible. Something in Gandalf's manner put me somewhat at ease, as though it was the most natural thing in the world for me to be pouring out my deepest secret to him.  
  
"What kinds of things do you see? Ghosts?"  
  
"No, not apparitions. I see visions… of the future," at the last I expected a sort of surprised and horrified look to cross his face, but instead, a look of pity entered his eyes, and he softened his voice.  
  
"And you saw Aceleniel, didn't you?" All I could do was nod, my throat constricted and I did not trust my voice to answer. "Then you know you have to talk to him. You have to tell him." At this, a wild thrill passed through my body, and I was suddenly dizzy with a mixture of overwhelming fear and hesitation, and a small amount of excitement that cut to the very core of my longing.  
  
"M-m-me? I don't think there is anything I could do to help him at all. I'd probably just make it worse for him. He wouldn't want to see me, how could he possibly want to hear about me knowing, anyway?" I stammered out in a rush, my mind searching for every possible excuse, yet at the same time hoping that Gandalf would take none of them.  
  
"That's what he needs the most. Your support, your confidence, your strength! And whether or not you realize it, you need him and his courage to help you through the difficult times ahead," he smiled at me winningly and took my limp hand in his old and leathery one. "I know you think the last thing he needs is to hear of anyone else's suffering, but believe me, if anything will sober him to the world he is letting slip by without him, it is the realization of an obligation towards others. He is the strongest of us, even in his weakness, and you must show him the way out of his black hole of loss back into the light." I nodded numbly and allowed him to plant a grandfatherly kiss on my forehead before he left me work up my courage.  
  
Legolas was listless. The whole world had gone gray for his eyes. Gray, the color of the hateful waves under the cover of threatening clouds. With his chin resting heavily on his hands, Legolas stared blankly out the porthole window in his cabin. His mind wandered from images of Aceleniel to himself, to his quest, and then right back to Aceleniel again. Nothing could distract him from the thought of her. The rigid arch of her body as it surrendered to the force pulling it inexorably down, was imprinted in his mind, to last forever.  
  
A soft tap on the doorframe caused Legolas' heart to sink farther than he would have imagined possible at the moment. "I don't want to see anyone," he thought sullenly. Then, composing himself, he called back instead, "Enter." Tarrodwen opened the door a crack and peeked inside.  
  
I squeezed quietly through the opening and entered the cabin. There was a heavy weight in the air that was almost palpable, making it seem that any sound, however small, would shatter the thinly existing equilibrium of emotions. At the sight of Legolas, looking so dejected, I almost broke down and cried, but remembering Gandalf's wise words, I made a valiant effort to appear at ease.  
  
"Is there something you need, Tarrodwen?" he asked me once I was fully inside with the door shut behind me. His eyes, whose glitter and personality had once caught me up and whirled my mind in a delightful chaos of happiness, seemed to be dulled and almost lifeless now.  
  
"Yes," I conceded. "There is something I need. I need to talk to you. About Aceleniel." At the mention of her name Legolas' whole attitude seemed to change. He sat up straight, a ripple of anguish passed over his face before the Elvin impassiveness took control once more. The only emotion left showing was in his eyes, where a flicker of anger could be seen.  
  
"I will not speak of the dead," he said evenly, coolly.  
  
"I know of the Elvin reluctance to disturb those lying in rest with the speaking of their names. After all, I too am part Elf, am I not?" He ignored my question and pressed on with one of his own, as if he was eager to end the conversation and return to his brooding.  
  
"Why must you torment me more with this casual conversation of the one I loved? The one that is now lost to me?"  
  
"Because there is something you need to know. To put your mind at ease, though at first you will surely question how it is that this will at all alleviate your pain." He looked at me questioningly, with a face that pleaded me not to let him on. I wanted to go to him, to comfort him with my presence, to embrace him and extract every trace of ache left in his heart, and it took all my willpower to stay standing right where I was. I cleared my throat quietly and continued,  
  
"I saw her die," his perfect brow creased into a frown, but before he could protest, I held up my hand to halt his words. "I saw her die, twice. I knew she would depart this life in that battle as soon as I stepped foot on the deck. I had seen it before… in a vision."  
  
"You are a seer?!" a look of complete astonishment and incredulity stole across his face at my words. "Why didn't you tell us? How could you have kept something like that a secret from everyone?"  
  
"Elrond knew, that's part of why I was chosen to be part of this fellowship. I--"  
  
"You knew she would die, and you said nothing??" he suddenly broke out. "How cold are you? If you had just said something, anything, we could have, maybe we, she could have been, she would be with us right now!" His angry outburst shook me to the core. I had never seen Legolas lose control of his emotions in that way, and the words themselves, so hurtful and condemning, shattered my self-control.  
  
"Do you think it's easy being a seer?" I shouted at him. "Do you think it's fun? How could you possibly say that to me? Just because I saw this happen, you presume to think that I could have in any way stopped it!" I was crying now, but I was too angry to care. "How dare you place her death on my shoulders? Do you think I have not agonized over this before? How do you think I felt knowing Aceleniel, my friend, would soon end her immortal life, and that I was powerless to do anything to prevent it? You are not the only one hurt by her passing, Legolas, we all are. And hard as it is for you to believe, in your selfishness, some of us are suffering just as much, if not more, than you are." With that last spike driven home, I spun on my heel and left a slightly wide-eyed Legolas sitting by himself on his cot. 


	3. Redemption

THIRD INSTALLMENT FOR QUEST FOR THE RINGS  
  
3: REDEMPTION  
  
I came up short as I entered my room. "I think you've done enough crying over him," Rorimac told me as I quickly began scrubbing at my hopelessly red eyes. "You need a little more happiness in your life and a little less tears. Come, sit with me," he gave me an encouraging smile and patted a spot on the bed next to him with an enormous hand.  
  
Few people, even among our fellowship, quite understood the relationship between Rorimac and I. We had grown up together in the hills of Krellon, a wonderful wooded area with a plethora of soft, warm afternoons. Rorimac had been a brother to me all my life. Always looking out for me, protecting me, and comforting me when I needed him the most. Well, I needed him now, and there he was, as he had always been, and would always be, waiting for me with widespread arms and an understanding heart.  
  
I gladly went to him and curled myself up into the crook of his arm. He didn't say anything more to me, and he didn't need to. The sense of comfort and protection emanating from his very soul rushed over me in a tidal wave of relief that soothed my aching heart.  
  
I awoke with a start. I hadn't realized I had gone to sleep at all. Then, I ardently listened once more for the sound that had awakened me from the escape of my mercifully dreamless slumber. It came again, as a soft tap on my door. I suddenly realized that Rorimac was no longer at my side, and a part of me felt the loss of his presence keenly. "It's open," I finally called to my visitor.  
  
Legolas took a deep, calming breath and opened the door. There she was, sitting up on her bed. Her face was an impenetrable mask, hiding the slightest bit of emotion behind those stone cold eyes. Through it all, however, he could see that Tarrodwen had been crying. A pang of guilt ran through him and served to bolster his courage.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said simply. All the words he had so carefully planned out, all the excuses and justifications he had put together, flew right out of his mind when he looked at her face. He found that all he could do was admit he was wrong, and apologize, with only those two little words. Not another sound would his lips emit. His body stood locked in position, awaiting a single, solitary sign from her.  
  
And then it came. Slowly, a hint of softness crept back into her eyes. Her jaw gently loosened its tight clamp, and a sense of calm and relief seemed to meld itself into her features. Legolas exhaled a breath he had not realized he was holding. Suddenly, his world seemed to have just a little more light, enough to penetrate the oppressive darkness that had been a cloak weighing down his shoulders since Aceleniel's death. A brief smile touched his lips, not quite making it to his eyes, yet wonderfully bright to Tarrodwen.  
  
My heart turned cold when I realized who was at the door. He would receive not an inch from me. As much as I hated to do it to him, to Legolas, to the man I was in love with, I couldn't just let him fluster my emotions and tangle my thoughts. I had to be strong, as Gandalf said, for him, but mostly for myself. "Can he see my thoughts? Am I transparent? What is he thinking?" the questions surged through my head like a hurricane, all the while my stomach churning with anxiety. And then, his words so simple, yet so unexpected, cut right through all previous thought. My breathing stopped, my mind suddenly exploded with surprise and a new respect and love for him blossomed in me in an instant.  
  
With deliberate slowness, I stood up and crossed the cramped cabin to stand in front of him. Something in him had changed, for the good, and the timid, half-smile he gave me lifted my heart to the sky. I strove to master my high spirits and give him a reply, but all I could do was smile. Finally, oh finally! I was able to curl my arms around his slender neck and bury my face in his soft shoulder. How wonderful his powerful body felt as he embraced me in return! The strong arms, firmly pulling me towards him, tenderly caressed my back as he simply held me for a moment.  
  
All too soon, the blessed moment was over. He pulled away and gave me a heartfelt smile. "Thank you," he said with all the sincerity he possessed. "Though you are the one who possesses the Sight, it seems that I see clearly now." And with that, he left, his heart and mine, a great deal lighter. 


	4. A Timely Arrival

FOURTH INSTALLMENT FOR QUEST FOR THE RINGS  
  
4. A TIMELY ARRIVAL  
  
For a full two weeks our diminished fellowship remained closely united aboard the dreary, wave-battered ship. Suspicions began to arise among the crew about the nature of the attack. Many claimed the strangers were to blame, that everyone aboard the ship was in danger because of them. The situation between the mariners and ourselves slowly drew to a head, and if not for the siting of land at a felicitous moment, we all would have been killed.  
  
Breathing deeply, I took in the salty scent of the sea. I stood alone at the helm of the ship, allowing the billowing wind to throw my wildly curly, auburn hair about my face. My fingers icily clung to the railing while my feet swayed with the roiling deck beneath me. I was thinking of Legolas again, about those blue eyes, so clear and bright, his long, flowing, golden mane, and his high cheekbones so common of the Elvin race, his strong shoulders, and nicely toned body...oh, just the thought of him sent shivers through my body. What was he doing right now?  
  
A strong gust of wind buffeted me and brought me crashing back into reality. I glanced sideways at a menacing-looking sailor with a jagged, red scar running from his left eye, across his crooked nose, and all the way down his neck to disappear into his dirty shirt. He eyed me warily and half drew his cutlass. His eyes dropped from me to the blade as he caressed the edge with a skilled thumb. A hand rested on my shoulder and I jumped guiltily. Spinning around, I confronted my assailant.  
  
"A bit jumpy are we?" the kindly face of Gandalf greeted my mad whirl. "The mood of this ship lends itself to wariness," he smiled kindly at me, unknowingly hitting right on the cause of my unease.  
  
"When will we hit land?" I asked him imploringly. "I don't know how much longer we can last under this stress. Things are bound to reach a climax soon."  
  
"As a matter of fact, we should have reached the Isle of Geldrion several days ago."  
  
"What?!" I exclaimed. "Why haven't you said anything?"  
  
"I wasn't going to burden all of you any more than necessary. Besides, if we were to get terribly off our course, you know I would...well...do something about it," he said the last confidentially. If the mariners were haughtily cold with the rest of us after the fight, they were openly hostile with Gandalf. The very thought of magic made their blood turn to ice. The fact that Gandalf had used the abhorred ancient weapon on their ship, even in their defense, had nearly caused an uprising.  
  
Gandalf and I stood at the helm a few minutes longer before he escorted me back to my cabin. He seemed a little preoccupied as we descended the steps leading below deck. "What are you contemplating, old man?" I asked him lightly, attempting to ease the stressed mood. A slight frown creased his brow for an instant and then was gone.  
  
"Simply, my dear, whether or not I can get a good nap in here before they pass out the grub," he smiled back and then quickened his pace to walk with his back towards me.  
  
Leaving me at my door, he said a hasty goodbye and turned. I noticed, as I entered my room that Gandalf had not gone in the direction of his own cabin, but to that of Rorimac. My curiosity piqued, I followed him silently, my soft leather boots making no noise on the weathered floorboards. A swift knock on Rorimac's door gained him admittance and he slipped quickly inside. I tiptoed slowly up to the door, so as not to step on any creaking boards, and pressed my ear against the wood.  
  
"You were right, Rorimac," I could hear Gandalf say. "We won't last much longer. They're up to something, and I'll be damned if I know what!"  
  
"If they intended to just heave us all overboard, don't you think they would have done it already?" Rorimac's deep, bass voice rumbled with puzzlement from behind the door.  
  
"Maybe, and maybe not. They could be waiting for something-"  
  
"Like what? We're in the dead center of nowhere, we can't get much more isolated from land than if we were sittin' blindfolded on the moon!" Rorimac interjected exasperatedly.  
  
"Perhaps you're right, my friend," Gandalf mused a moment. "But I can just feel the hate mounting every minute. You and I both know what kind of trouble we could be in if…" he started mumbling and I could no longer understand his words. Then, the room went absolutely silent.  
  
Suddenly, I could hear the tread of large feet, Rorimac's for sure, heading in my direction. I frantically scrambled away from the door as if burnt, and fled as quietly as possible back to my cabin. I had just clicked my door silently closed when Rorimac's banged open. I could picture his broad frame completely filling the doorway, as his razor-sharp eyes piercingly searching the corridor. I stood against the wood, holding my breath, until I heard the unmistakable sound of Rorimac returning to his room. I breathed a sigh of relief and headed to bed. I wasn't afraid of being caught, really, I just didn't want to be seen as an eavesdropper, or it would get much harder to do later.  
  
Late morning the following day, Legolas sat at the small writing desk in his cabin, oiling up his bow. The strong, yet bendable, ebony wood had silver chasing along the entire length. His quiver of arrows sat within easy reach of his elegant, lithe arms, and the ever-present wide-bladed knife, so carefully and precisely crafted, hung at his side. There was something in the air today that made him wary. He couldn't say what, but his Elvin instincts told him something was awry.  
  
Just as he finished restringing his bow, a cry from the deck swung his head aloft, his eyes intently searching the ceiling for a moment as if to will them to see straight through the wood. His first thought was of Tarrodwen, "Where is she?" He hesitated only that one second before he sprang to his feet, and grabbing his gear, leaped out the door. Legolas fairly flew up the steps to the deck. The moment he stepped above, however, he brought himself to an abrupt, yet surprisingly graceful stop, keenly surveying the scene laid out before him.  
  
Gandalf, Tarrodwen, and Rorimac were all backed up against the rail of the deck, completely encircled by seamen with drawn blades. Rorimac had his broadsword bared and his protective stance almost completely shielded Tarrodwen from view. Gandalf stood erect and proud beside him, an infuriated glint in his eyes. Luckily, with all the commotion, no one had noticed Legolas' arrival. He silently backed up against the railing of the stairs leading to the upper deck. Stealthily, he hurried up the steps and hid behind an overly large, ringed barrel where he would have a bird's eye view of the situation-- as well as a clean shot.  
  
"You gotten us lost, wizard!" the captain spat at us. "It's you an' your cursed magik that dun it. You plagued our ship with attention from the Lady o' Ill Fortune, you did. All them orcs and such, we ain't never b'fore seen none of their like, til you come. Well, I ain't gunna let you stay here til ya get us all lost and kil't o' starvin'. Yous all gunna get the hell off my ship NOW if I have to help ya meeself!" he growled.  
  
"Calm down, Captain. We're not lost, we-" Gandalf began.  
  
"We be lost! I know bloody well when we be lost! Don't you be spinnin' lies to mysitikfy us, wizard. I knows your eeevil tricks, I do." The captain advanced upon Gandalf menacingly with a slightly rusty saber. Before he could take a full step, Rorimac began to slide in front of him. But he wasn't as fast as Tarrodwen. She was in front of Gandalf in an instant, staff held ready in her expert hands. She wore a look of pure determination that, for some reason, stirred a feeling of pride in Legolas' breast.  
  
"Take one step closer, you impudent oaf, and I'll knock you so hard your forefathers are going to wonder why they've got a headache," I threatened the irate captain. His face went utterly scarlet and his eyes bulged until I thought they would pop from his head. Never had he expected to be threatened by this slight woman with a stick.  
  
"If you live long enough," a solid voice said from above. Using my peripheral vision, and never taking my eyes from the captain, I spotted Legolas standing tall near the tiller, bow drawn, muscles tensed, awaiting one wrong move.  
  
The situation was explosive. Everyone remained utterly still for what seemed like an hour. Eyes swung from our small group on the deck, to Legolas above, and back again, trying to assess the greatest danger. Not a breath of wind stirred, the whole world seemed to be frozen in an instant of anticipation.  
  
Then, the most unexpected event occurred. As I tensely watched the captain with bated breath, I suddenly heard an excited cry from the forgotten lookout perched high atop the crow's nest.  
  
"Land ho! Land ho!" he cried. All heads swung unanimously in the direction in which the lookout was frantically pointing. Sure enough, there on the horizon was a small speck of land, almost indistinguishable in the distance.  
  
"The Isle of Geldrion!" shouted one of the mates.  
  
"We've made it!" called another.  
  
A deafening cry rang up from the seamen, as they all but forgot about their controversial passengers in wild displays of exuberance. The captain shot one last accusative glare in our direction before he too sheathed his saber and stalked off.  
  
Ok guys, I can't write anymore until I get some reviews to go off of, so please R/R! I mean it, I refuse to go on without feedback! I need it! 


	5. An Isle and a Secret

FIFTH INSTALLMENT FOR QUEST FOR THE RINGS  
  
5. AN ISLE AND A SECRET  
  
Out of prudent caution for our lives, we spent the remainder of the voyage, almost a full two days, below decks. Only late afternoon of the second day, when calls from the docks could be heard over the roaring wind, did we once more venture to the surface.  
  
The captain greeted us with a cold diffidence. Though his manner implied nonchalance, the dark glint of ire in his eyes belied his still-smoldering emotions. Rorimac took a seemingly casual step toward me when he noticed and rested his hand near his sheathed sword. It was Legolas who spoke first, however, to my great surprise, as he was usually very soft-spoken.  
  
"It seems your journey has been successful, captain," he began diplomatically.  
  
"Seems so," the captain replied warily, narrowing his eyes as if to scan for some hidden meaning behind Legolas' words. His glance flicked toward Legolas' knife only once, and then he again concentrated on the approaching docks.  
  
"We will not require return passage aboard your ship, captain," Legolas continued. "We take full responsibility for any inconvenience caused for you on this voyage and are therefore willing to pay you double the amount originally agreed upon." With that, Legolas removed a fat leather purse from his tunic and handed it to the captain. Surprise stole over the captain's face, quickly replaced by a look of greed and calculation. Before he could say a word, however, Gandalf stepped in and cut him off,  
  
"I am sure you will be satisfied with the amount in that bag, captain. Now, if you will be so kind as to order our scant belongings to be unloaded as a first priority, we will on our way."  
  
"Yes, yes, o' course," the captain mumbled absently as he hefted the heavy purse in his calloused hand. Without so much as another glance in our direction, he turned and barked an order to a nearby sailor, who nodded and scurried below decks.  
  
As I stepped off the docks and onto solid earth, a feeling of intense relief swept through me. "Finally, back on solid ground," I thought. It was evident that the others of our party shared my feelings. Gandalf's mouth quirked into a half-smile as he dug the toes of his shoes into the rocky soil that was characteristic of the wind swept isle. Rorimac actually took a few experimental hops up and down before a broad grin split his face. Legolas knelt down and cupped his hands full of earth. He simply held it there, eyes closed, for a moment, as if he was listening to it. He then opened his eyes and, realizing we were all looking at him peculiarly, gave us a cryptic explanation.  
  
"The earth is wise and should be listened to very carefully. It often tells what men will not." Rising, he dusted his hands off on his leggings and proceeded to look around. I took my queue from him and studied the city as well.  
  
It seemed to simply rise up from the rocks. The entire city was made from the same dull stone as the surrounding countryside. The spike-tipped spires of the central palace could be seen from there on the shore, reaching up to pierce the sky with razor-sharp blades. The whole city was built in that fashion with almost all the building roofs made of stone and peaked to make a sea of obelisks jabbing menacingly at the sky. There was something barren and lonely about the city, about the whole isle, really. It gave the impression of precision, which carried with it a feeling of starkness that made me involuntarily shiver.  
  
"I've found us a ride to the city," Gandalf announced. I gratefully shifted my attention from the hulking presence of the city to Gandalf, who had slipped off unnoticed as we were gazing upward. "A kind fisherman has agreed to let us ride in the back of his wagon with the fish. The smell's not great, but at least he's going all the way into the city."  
  
A kind fisherman indeed. The man we were hitching a ride with was the epitome of a lowlife, with his scraggly beard, roving left eye, and multitude of assorted tattoos. His wagon of 'fish' left a great deal to be desired as well. The wagon was no more than a flatbed of splintering boards fenced in by more rotting wood on three sides. Only slightly green and decidedly slimy netting closed off the end of the wagon, and the fish smell inside was atrocious. We did not in fact share the wagon with any marketable fish. However, there were parts of fish strewn about the floor. Gandalf nearly slipped onto his backside while getting into the cart when he stepped onto a squishy glob of fishy entrails.  
  
I was well past feeling nauseated when we finally reached the gates of the city. "This is where you get off," the fisherman called over his shoulder as he leaned over the side to spit.  
  
"None too soon," I thought queasily as I attempted to stand up. Between the lingering smell and the motion of the cart, I was thoroughly sick. I swayed ponderously on my feet while making my way to the edge of the wagon, and only Legolas' firm grip on my arm kept me from falling face first off of the cart and into the dirt. When he realized I wasn't going to be able to make it on my own, he slipped a steadying arm around my waist and lowered me to the ground. His touch sent waves of excitement reverberating through my mind and even pierced the sea of nausea that was keeping me semi- incapacitated. I gave him a small smile of gratitude that, to my enjoyment, lit up his animated, azure eyes.  
  
"Wow," was all Rorimac could say at first when he gazed up to the top of the wall surrounding the city. All our eyes swung in the direction Rorimac was facing. The wall was adapted only slightly from the original rock. "Seems to me they needn't have tampered with the wall at all. As far as I can tell, this was built naturally for defense." He stared down his whole length of vision appreciatively. "Utterly unassailable," he muttered.  
  
The guards at the gate rather rudely recaptured our attention with the loud clearing of throats. "You next?" one inquired gruffly. Obviously these people did not like outsiders. There was not much trading done between the Mainland and the Isle of Geldrion. Its ports were small, and too removed from the rest of the world for it to be of any great value to most traders. There was also a lack of demanded natural resources that caused many merchants to bypass the island on their way to the Emerald Sea. The feeling became that if the rest of the world wanted nothing to do with them, they wanted nothing to do with the rest of the world.  
  
"Well? Are you going to stand out here in the cold for the rest of the night, or are you going to get into the city before we close the gates?"  
  
"No, no of course not," Gandalf said. "Sorry about the delay."  
  
"Yea, sure," the smaller guard replied. He seemed to have a permanent sneer on his face. "Now, who are you, where are you from, and what is your business here at the Imperial City of Geldrion? I require all your names and a weapons list as well." Gandalf, being the most widely traveled among us, answered.  
  
"Names, I am Gandalf, the large fellow over there is Rorimac-- with a 'c' not a 'k', you oaf." Gandalf stopped him as he looked over the guard's shoulder at the list he was writing.  
  
"Watch it, old man," the guard growled. His companion put a restraining hand on his shoulder and muttered something in his ear about old people.  
  
"The lady is Tarrodwen," Gandalf continued unperturbed, "And the man with the bow is Legolas." The guards' eyes widened considerably when they realized Legolas was one of the fabled Elves, but whether or not they wished to comment on it, they afterward took great pains to ignore the fact.  
  
"Weapons list," the guard snapped. After we had finally gone through all the customs questions about our business and any cargo, our weapons and anything else he felt a need to know, it was already dusk.  
  
Our small party wandered into the city at long last and found an inn with a golden ring emblem on the front sign. The King's Ring was the name of the inn, and as we walked in, the plump innkeeper came to meet us. He was stout man in his early forties, whose baldhead gleamed with sweat that he continually mopped up with a red handkerchief. He smiled at us warily as his beady, pig-like eyes searched us all up and down.  
  
"Welcome to the King's Ring Inn, I am master Norry, the innkeeper. What can I do for you folks tonight?" he inquired.  
  
"Room and board for four people. Three men and a lady. I don't know for how long." Legolas answered. As the innkeeper's eyes swung to the speaker, he noticed something he had not before. Before he could stop himself he blurted,  
  
"You're an...an ELF!" his reaction was much the same as the guardsmens'. Startled disbelief bulged out his eyes and his fat little hand holding the kerchief stopped in mid-mop.  
  
"Is there a problem master Norry?" Legolas asked, slightly perplexed. Though we all knew that elves very seldom ventured across seas, and even less frequently came to the Isle of Geldrion, these people seemed to regard the Elf as a walking myth.  
  
"Nnn...not at all, not at all," he covered, and he once again began mopping his forehead, this time a little more vigorously than strictly necessary. "I can have your rooms ready in a less than a half hour. Ppp...please do have some dinner down here while I attend to your rooms." He bobbed a half bow and quickly returned through the door presumably leading to the kitchen.  
  
"Interesting fellow," I commented as we watched his retreating back curiously. "There's something funny going on around here. I get this feeling of...well...wrongness, for lack of a better word." I confessed.  
  
"Yes, I feel it too," Rorimac piped up. Legolas and Gandalf remained strangely silent.  
  
After a surprisingly delicious dinner of stewed mutton, carrots, and steaming hot bread, chased by a cold mug of local ale, we climbed the stairs to our rooms, led by master Norry himself. "Here you go," he said as he grandly opened the door of one of the rooms. It was small and quite cramped because of the addition of a third bed to the small assortment of other furniture in the room. A white, porcelain washstand, a chest of drawers, and a dented bed stand completed the scant furnishings of the room. Rorimac eyed his short bed dubiously, but said nothing.  
  
"And here's the room for the lady," the innkeeper announced as he opened a door adjacent to the other room. "I hope you are comfortable." By comparison, my room seemed much larger with only one bed and a washstand, chest, and bed stand. I turned from my room to thank master Norry, but strangely enough, he was gone.  
  
Through the shadowed streets of the Imperial City of Geldrion, a cloaked figured lurked. Peering furtively around the corners of buildings, he stealthily slunk from one cluster of shadows to the next, slowly making his way to the palace. Upon reaching the ivory gates, he muttered something low to the guardsmen and they wordlessly allowed him passage. Once inside the palace grounds, he took the back way in through the kitchens to attract as little notice as possible.  
  
No palace is complete without its own set of secret passageways and concealed entrances. The cloaked figure chose one without a pause and continued up it until he reached a panel with a spy hole cut into the wood, masked on the opposite side by intricate engraving in the walls. It led to the emperor's private study, where he presently sat at his desk with his head bent over an ancient manuscript.  
  
At the sound of the secret door opening, he reached under his desk for the hidden throwing knife concealed beneath, but he let his hand fall when he realized who it was. "Master Norry," Emperor Melnion said a bit testily. "What brings you here at this late hour?"  
  
"News, sire, dire news!" Norry exclaimed.  
  
"Well? Out with it man!" the emperor nearly shouted in exasperation.  
  
"Well, umm, some strange foreigners came into my inn today," he was not sounding near as sure of himself as he had hoped. His voice shook a little and he could not keep himself from dry washing his hands as he spoke.  
  
"And..." Melnion prompted.  
  
"And one was an elf, sire!" he blurted all at once.  
  
"What? Are you sure? How many were in the group?" The emperor had left his chair in the meantime and was now standing directly in front of the innkeeper. At the mention of the elf, he grabbed onto the collar of Norry's tunic. Norry squirmed under the close grip of his emperor and struggled a moment to answer.  
  
"Thhh...there were four, sire," he finally choked out.  
  
"Four!" Melnion suddenly loosed his grip on the fabric and allowed Norry to fall to the floor in a heap. "It couldn't be," he muttered to himself as he frantically searched the shelves of one of the many bookcases lining the walls of his study, completely forgetting the presence of the groveling innkeeper. "Aha!" he exclaimed. Pulling an aged parchment from a ponderously leaning stack, he blew off the dust and proceeded to open it. His eyes widened as he reread the words on the stained and yellowed parchment, all the while twisting a thick gold ring around his finger,  
  
"A fellowship of four to take the ring,  
  
With them destruction they will bring.  
  
Without the power Geldrion will die,  
  
All hope rests in the Elfling's eye."  
  
-Brilhoth the Oracle  
  
  
  
Don't worry, more lovey-dovey fluff coming up soon, so just hold your horses. =) I have to advance my plot sometime you know. =) Plus* What does the emperor really know about the ring he wears? What's with the oracle's prophecy? Stay tuned to find out! 


	6. Visions, Confessions, and Explanations

SIXTH INSTALLMENT FOR QUEST FOR THE RINGS  
  
6. VISIONS, CONFESSIONS AND EXPLANATIONS  
  
A scream pierced the air, reverberating throughout the inn. Rorimac knew that voice in an instant. "Tarrodwen!" he shouted as he leaped up from the bed where he had been sharpening his sword. Rorimac bolted out the door to Tarrodwen's room with Legolas and Gandalf hot on his heels. He threw open the door to find Tarrodwen lying curled up tightly in a ball on her mattress. She was shaking uncontrollably and tears of terror rolled down her cheeks to tangle in her lovely hair.  
  
"What's wrong? What happened?" Rorimac asked fervently as he knelt down beside her. He took hold of both her hands, which were tightened into unyielding fists, in one of his own and spoke more gently. "Tarrodwen, Tarrodwen. Can you hear me, love?" he leaned in closer to her and brushed away strands of hair from her sweat-drenched face. She simply continued rocking back and forth and shaking, not making any response to them at all.  
  
"Let me near her," Legolas said suddenly. Rorimac looked at him with fear in his eyes, not wanting to let go of her, of Tarrodwen, whom he had comforted like a little sister all her life. "Please, Rorimac. Let me see her," Legolas urged gently. He put a hand on Rorimac's shoulder and gave him a look of compassion that spoke volumes. Hesitantly, Rorimac released his hold on her and stepped away.  
  
"I'm going to stall the curious gawkers outside," Gandalf said quietly as he slipped out of the room.  
  
Legolas put a cool hand to Tarrodwen's fevered forehead and closed his eyes. A faint blue light emanated from the elf's palm, pulsating as it grew to encompass Tarrodwen. Rorimac looked on in wonder at the Elvin healing he was witness to. Suddenly, there was a sharp intake of breath, another cry, and Tarrodwen opened her eyes.  
  
I couldn't feel myself. It was as if I was floating in a void of darkness, as an entity, a being, with no shape or form, only a consciousness. The black was stifling; it seemed to possess an oppressive force that weighed me down, and choked me. With an abrupt pitch forward, I was thrown into motion. I was hurtling through a space so utterly and totally devoid of light, it could not even be called black, for that suggested an opposite for comparison; and in this place there was none.  
  
Suddenly, I could see a small speck of flickering light up ahead. As I approached it I realized it was a blazing ball of intense white-hot fire. I panicked, and I heard a scream escape my lips. Struggling against the force pulling me inexorably forward, I tried to close my eyes, tried to shut out the inescapable death that was coming for me, to no avail. Closer and closer it came, getting hotter and hotter by the instant. Then it hit me, and I seemed to meld into it, to become the flames, and I lost all senses.  
  
There before me, quite out of nowhere, appeared the words,  
  
  
  
"A fellowship of four to take the ring,  
  
With them destruction they will bring.  
  
Without the power Geldrion will die,  
  
All hope rests in the Elfling's eye."  
  
They were written in gold and shined enticingly at me. As soon as I finished reading them, however, the gold seemed to melt into a red and red became blood, dripping out of the lines, oozing towards me as if it carried a life of its own. I cried out once more as it reached out to touch me, and suddenly, I heard a strong, and familiar, voice above me. "No, you may not have her," it said. A blue light seemed to reach out from nowhere, enclosing me and bathing everything in a comforting sapphire hue. The blood reared back in terror and began a slow retreat back from whence it came.  
  
Abruptly, I was back in my room at the inn, with Legolas sitting next to me with his hand on my head. Rorimac was standing above me, his face contorted with anxiety and worry.  
  
"It's all right, Tarrodwen. You're back with us. You're safe," Legolas told me soothingly. I could feel my heart pounding and I was shaking, but the sound of his soft voice calmed me and the touch of his skin reminded me of what was real.  
  
"What happened?" Rorimac asked anxiously.  
  
"A Vision," I said a bit breathlessly. "That's never happened to me before. I've never blacked out of reality so completely like that. It just...engulfed me," I said in baffled puzzlement. "And the Vision, it...it was a verse, it said, 'A fellowship of four to take the ring, with them destruction they will bring, without the power Geldrion will die, all hope rests in the Elfling's eye.' Now what is that?"  
  
"Later, we'll figure it out later, you don't need to recount it right now. Just try to relax, love," Rorimac interrupted me. "I'm just so glad to see you're all right, you gave us all quite a scare," he said with a small smile.  
  
"Rorimac, would you go enlighten Gandalf, please? I need to talk to Tarrodwen a moment before we let her rest," Legolas said. Rorimac nodded somewhat uncertainly, but said nothing. Legolas watched as he closed the door behind him, then returned his gaze to me.  
  
"That was you, wasn't it," I asked him. "The blue light, I mean, you saved me," I said in slight wonder.  
  
"At least I had the power to save one whom I love," he told me quietly with a sigh. He raised his eyes to look deep into mine, and a spark of pure energy seemed to jump between us. My mind exploded with a rekindled love for the man kneeling over me. Not a man, but an elf, an elf who not long ago held all my deepest affections, and I without so much as a glimmer of faith in his ever returning my love. Now, here he was, confessing to me that he indeed loved me, with that passionate look in his eye that I thought would never belong solely to me. I smiled up at him though the spring of joyful tears in my eyes, as he leaned forward and fervidly kissed me. My emotions swirled into a blissful chaos inside my mind, and everything hazed over to the point when I was aware of Legolas, and only Legolas.  
  
All too soon he pulled away, and only the lingering half-smile so full of warmth and devotion, consoled my feeling of the loss of his touch. "Now," he said, in a voice, I noted delightedly, that was tinted with regret, "I need to ask you about your heritage." The question slightly surprised me. I hadn't realized that he had listened to me when I told him I was half-elf.  
  
"Well," I started, slightly puzzled, my mind still in a whirl over his kiss, "My father was an Elf from the Glades, like Aceleniel. He traveled widely and met my mortal mother when in Krellon. They fell in love, he gave up his immortal life for her, and the rest is a storybook tale."  
  
"Oh," he smiled with pleasure lighting up his face with the confirmation of my Elvin roots. "Tell me about yourself, Tarrodwen. Are you immortal? Is the quarterstaff your Weapon? I'm afraid I know very little about halflings, if you pardon the term," he asked me curiously.  
  
"I probably know less than you about halflings, Legolas. I'm the only one I know," I told him with a faint smile. "But, yes, I am immortal. My mother conceived me before my father gave up his immortality, passing it on to me. As to the Weapon, I'm not sure I know what you're talking about."  
  
"My bow, it is my Weapon," he patiently explained as he took my hand in his. "I was made to be an archer. No one ever taught me how to shoot, I just knew. I was born to wield a bow and arrow, to wield THAT bow. The Weapon itself is made just for me, no one else can shoot it--it simply will not bend for them." I looked at him wide-eyed. He had just explained to me the very experience I had gone through with my staff.  
  
"Then, yes, my quarterstaff is my Weapon, only my receiving the staff was a bit odd."  
  
"How so?" he asked me with a slight frown; his fingers intertwining with mine distracted me for a moment.  
  
"Well, I won it playing poker in a tavern one night. The man who bet it said it was unbalanced enough that it wouldn't even lie on the floor properly. He said it wasn't worth anything as a quarterstaff, but that the silver engraving would cover his bet. I had been having rotten luck all night, but I went in one last time on this, on a hunch--and I won.  
  
"Legolas, I felt something when I picked it up. It felt...right. I didn't know what the man was talking about when he said it was unbalanced. It was as balanced in my hands as if it had been crafted by the gods. It seemed to belong to me, to want me to use it, IT taught me to fight with a quarterstaff, and I haven't been beaten since," I finished in a disbelieving tone. I had never really thought about how I had learned to fight, but it all coming together so perfectly made me slightly skeptical.  
  
He looked pensive for a moment then he abruptly stood up and left, coming back in with his bow in hand. "Let me see your staff," he said as he stood above me. I pointed to the nook behind the door, where my quarterstaff stood, gleaming richly in the lamplight. He picked it up and placed both staff and bow on the bed below my feet. A gasp escaped my lips at the same time that Legolas exclaimed in a low voice, "I knew it!"  
  
Looking down at the pair of Weapons, it was clear that the silver engraving on each matched the other perfectly. "A match," Legolas declared in disbelief, "You ARE the one." 


	7. An Emperor's Invite

SEVENTH INSTALLMENT FOR QUEST FOR THE RINGS  
  
7. AN EMPEROR'S INVITE  
"The one what?" I asked, leaning forward intently. He did not answer immediately, but rather gently took my shaking hand in his and placed them over the Weapons.   
  
"My soul mate," he said simply, his eyes glowing with love and warmth, so much it almost overwhelmed me. All I could do was stare back at him in disbelief. His soul mate? As much as I wanted to believe him, to believe him with every ounce of my heart, I just couldn't accept it so suddenly.  
  
"What...I mean, how do you know," I asked him puzzled. The look of hurt he gave me for my disbelief cut me deeply. Couldn't he see how much I wanted to believe him?  
  
"Don't you feel it? There is something here, between us, that was meant to be. I finally realized, Tarrodwen, that I have felt it all along, not just now. I even felt it when I was with Aceleniel, though my heart was so caught up with her, I could simply ignore it." A haunting sense of loss filled Legolas' eyes with the thought of Aceleniel. I could see that he still loved her, deep in his heart, but I could also see that this would not make him love me any less.   
  
Taking his hands in mine, I sat up and tried to look him straight in the eye, but found he wouldn't raise his eyes to me. Gently, I lifted his strong chin with my fingers until his blue eyes were level with mine. "I love you, Legolas," I told him sincerely. "And I believe you. I have indeed felt this, but never thought you could return my love. It killed me everyday to look at you and know I could not have you as my own." Looking deep into my eyes, he seemed as if he were searching my soul. I felt open, venerable, yet protected knowing that all he found inside me would be loved and cherished.  
  
A polite knock on the door interrupted us, and with reluctance, I broke my gaze away from Legolas and called to the visitor to enter. Instead of seeing Gandalf or Rorimac come in, I was utterly surprised to see Master Norry's head peak through the door. The innkeeper had a nervous smile on his face and he fiddled uneasily with a sealed parchment in his hand.  
  
"Please come in, Master Norry," I told him, smiling invitingly.  
  
"I'm not, umm, interrupting anything am I?" he asked apprehensively.  
  
"Not at all, Master Norry," Legolas replied calmly. "What can we do for you?"  
  
"Well, umm, actually, I have message for you. Came just now, from the Emperor, as a matter of fact." With unnecessary haste, the innkeeper approached Legolas and handed him the sealed parchment, backing away to the door again quickly. "It's addressed to all of you. Don't know how he would know you're here, seeing as how you just came in," he said, his conversational tone ruined by the fact that his voice seemed to come out an octave higher than normal. His porcine eyes darted about wildly under bushy brows soaked in the sweat that dripped from his baldhead. He seemed to have forgotten about his handkerchief.  
  
"Thank you for delivering it, Master Norry," Legolas replied offhandedly as he examined the seal on the parchment. It was a slender dagger with a golden hilt. Closer examination of the hilt showed a thick, plain ring resting snuggly at the base. Something about the ring caught Legolas' eye. Looking up and expecting to question the innkeeper, Legolas was surprised to see that he had slipped off, unnoticed.   
  
"Funny how he keeps doing that," I commented. "He seems really nervous, in fact, ever since he set eyes on us he hasn't been able to stop fidgeting."  
  
"Set eyes on Legolas, really," Gandalf observed from the doorway. He and Rorimac slipped into the room and closed the door. "Everyone in Geldrion seems to be in some state of awe or fear of our friend here." He paused a moment to smile down at me. "Oh, glad to see you are feeling better, Tarrodwen. I'm sorry you must shoulder the burden of the Sight, but I'm sure you'll be just fine." I smiled back before returning my attention to the message in Legolas' hand.  
  
"Well? Are you going to open it?" Rorimac inquired with a comically raised eyebrow. Slowly breaking the seal, Legolas unrolled the parchment. It read:  
  
"You are cordially invited to enjoy  
lodgings at the Golden Palace of   
the Imperial City of Geldrion,   
compliments of his divine highness  
the Emperor Melnion. You will be  
expected to arrive this evening in   
time to dine with his most divine  
majesty, and will be expected to  
stay until your return home. Please   
take advantage of this hospitality."  
  
Filiby Henchman  
Secretary to His Divine Highness,  
The Emperor Melnion   
  
"An invitation? From the Emperor? How strange," I said, perplexed. "How does he know us? Like Master Norry said earlier, we just got in, and it's not as if we were expected."  
  
"News seems to travel fast in this city," Gandalf answered. "When traveling with an Elf on a distant, secluded isle where none of Elvin kind has been seen in centuries, notice is bound to be paid, unfortunately. The question now is not how he found out about us, but what he wants with us."  
  
"What are we going to do about the invitation?" Rorimac added.  
  
"It sounded more like an order than an invitation," Legolas replied with suspicion. "I do not trust this Emperor Melnion."  
  
"As well we shouldn't," Gandalf said as he eased himself down onto the bed next to me. Placing his walking staff behind him, Gandalf returned his attention to the parchment. "Well, we really have no choice but to pay him a visit, perhaps we will find news of our Ring of Power." Unexpectedly, Rorimac's stomach gurgled loudly and he put on a slightly embarrassed smile.  
  
"Well, sounds like my stomach thinks it is a good idea to go get something to eat," Rorimac said sheepishly.  
  
"All right then," I replied, standing up. "We may as well start heading to the palace, we don't know how long it will take us to reach it, and it sounds as if we'd be asking for trouble if we were late to dinner." This said, everyone left to gather their things. Once Gandalf and Legolas were in the hall, with Tarrodwen's door shut, and Rorimac's back to them, Legolas said,  
  
"I have an eerie feeling about that ring on the seal. It was strikingly similar to the ring which we seek."  
  
"Hmm, yes, I believe you're right," Gandalf mused quietly. "I can feel an evil in this city, Legolas. There is something wicked here, and I'm sure if we do not find it, it will find us." 


	8. Through the City

EIGHTH INSTALLMENT FOR QUEST FOR THE RINGS  
  
8. THROUGH THE CITY "What do we owe you for the stay, Master Norry?" Gandalf inquired as Rorimac made his way down the rail-less flight of stairs to the common room. Legolas and Tarrodwen were already down there with all their gear, waiting patiently as Gandalf settled their bill with the innkeeper.  
  
"Owe? Umm, well, seeing as how you didn't end up staying even one full night, I'll cut your price in, umm, half. Does that sound agreeable?" the innkeeper was once more vigorously mopping at his streaming brow as he stuttered to Gandalf.  
  
Rorimac leaned in close to me and whispered confidentially, "Cut the price in HALF? I've never come across an innkeeper who would willingly part with half his night's earnings, no matter what the circumstances. It's all rather strange, if you ask me." I nodded in agreement.  
  
"Very agreeable, Master Norry," Gandalf answered. "You've been a most attentive host. I thank you for your hospitality. Now," after handing the innkeeper a jingling bag of coins, which he quickly pocketed, Gandalf turned back to us and rubbed his hands together. "We had better be heading out." Thankful to get out of the sight of the nervous, and suspicious Master Norry, we filed out the door and into the cool night air.  
  
A strong, icily cold blast of wind swept in from the sea, billowing our cloaks and throwing my hair about my face. Pulling my forest green, wool coat around me tightly, I headed off down the street with the Legolas and Rorimac, Gandalf in the lead.  
  
The Imperial City of Geldrion was not nearly as impressive from the street- side as it was from the docks. Because of the rocky soil on the island, little could be grown in great quantities, which became evident with the sight of the bedraggled street residents of the city. The main streets looked newly paved and well kept, and there were several street sweepers out at dusk, cleaning up the messes of the day's traffic. Women carrying small children walked quickly to their homes as dusk settled in, heads bowed, eyes never leaving the ground. An atmosphere of wariness permeated the streets; it was as if the entire city were holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.  
  
Gandalf led the fellowship down one of the main streets and past what must have been a guardhouse. Sitting outside of a set of cracked driftwood doors were a pair of armored men, both in the same gray, ill-fitting tunics as the guardsmen at the gates but with a layer of tarnished chain mail over the top. Their helmets were comical, dented metal with a short, straggly feather attached to the top. The men would have looked perhaps more at home as hired goons for a merchant's wares. Above them, a faded, wooden sign swung dejectedly in the wind. The words were unintelligible, but next to the writing an image of an immensely muscled man wearing a polished breastplate and helm was still clearly visible. He was unsheathing a heavy- looking broadsword and his face was set in valiant determination. It contrasted sharply with the picture of the two disheveled guards sitting below it.  
  
"They must have been great once," Rorimac commented somewhat sadly as they passed the pair. "The City Guards Gild, I mean." The guards eyed the fellowship suspiciously as they walked by, trying to decide if it was worth the effort to stop and question them. Apparently it wasn't, because neither one moved from his seat at the door. "It's a shame to see fighting men just get lazy like that. Shows a corruption of morals and discipline," Rorimac shook his head in disgust. Being a fighter himself, he took great pride in the upkeep of his appearance and training, disdaining any who would shirk duties or in any way undermine what it meant to be a true swordsman.  
  
"I think more than just morals have been corrupted here," Legolas added ominously. Nodding, Gandalf quickened the pace and abruptly changed direction, moving down a cramped alley. I nearly gagged as I stepped in; the smell coming from the piles of trash was stifling, making the bile rise up in my throat.  
  
"Why the back alley, Gandalf?" I asked, trying to keep whatever was rebelling in my stomach down. "We're going to the Palace, there have to be main streets that lead there."  
  
"For safety reasons, Tarrodwen. There is evil lurking in this city, we can all feel it. It comes from everything, even the people. They are cold, guarded, and distrustful of even each other. This is not the Geldrion I remember, I know something evil has taken over, and I'm not going to let it take us for lack of prudence." That being said, I looked uncertainly over my shoulder. A man wrapped up in a drab cloak hurried past the alley entrance, not even glancing in our direction.  
  
We trudged from back alley to back alley, each one viler than the last. After finally stepping over the last dead and mangled cat, we emerged onto a wide, white paved street. Rising up grandly before us was the Imperial Palace of Geldrion. Glimmering in the last traces of the day's sunlight, its stark spires sparkled like the tips of menacing needles, ready to stab into the heavens with their poison. Great golden gates barred the entrance to the palace, looming over us as we approached with our invitation. The guardsman on duty straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin when he saw us coming, giving us an abrupt command as we slowed in front of him. "Halt, who dares to enter his majesty Emperor Melnion's Imperial Palace?" he asked imperiously, speaking to somewhere above our heads.  
  
"We have an imperial invite," Gandalf responded cordially, handing the sneering guard the letter from the emperor's secretary. Taking a moment to read the letter, the guard finally gave the group one last hard look before spinning on his heel and stomping away. As his back receded into the guardhouse on the left side of the gate, his voice could be heard giving curt commands presumably to the guardsmen working the gates. Swinging silently inward on well-greased hinges, the golden gates parted to allow the fellowship to proceed.  
  
"I have a REALLY bad feeling about this, Gandalf," I whispered fervently as we cautiously stepped inside.  
  
"Me too, but this is where it's coming from," he responded grimly, leaning in so his words reached only our ears. "The evil is concentrated here. It, is here."  
  
"A Ring?" Rorimac whispered. It was more of a statement than a question. "Then we've come to the right place."  
  
We were being ushered up the great marble steps at the entrance to the palace. The enormous arch seemed to be an immense, gaping maw ready to devour our diminutive fellowship in a single gulp. A shiver passed through me as we stepped beneath it and entered the palace. Greeting us was a small, stick-thin man in red livery with the Imperial house sigil embroidered in gold on the lapel of his coat. He had a long, arching nose that reminded me of a hawk, and cold black eyes that seemed to see everything.  
  
"Ah, you must be the esteemed Gandalf," the small man began in his nasal voice, giving Gandalf a small bow. "And an elf, what a great honor Master.?"  
  
"Legolas. Legolas Greenleaf," he replied warily. He could smell the deceitfulness and guile in this man. Could read it in his posture, his expression, and the tone of his voice. Legolas decided right then that he did not like this man at all.  
  
"Welcome to our Isle, Master Greenleaf," once more, that stiff, almost mocking bow. "I'm afraid I know not the rest of your group," he said looking at Rorimac and I sideways.  
  
"Allow me to introduce Rorimac Ironhand and Tarrodwen Silvereyes. Both of the land of Krellon," Gandalf waved a hand grandly.  
  
"Ah, a pleasure to meet you both," he said greasily. "And please, forgive me for not making my own introduction. I am Filiby Henchman, secretary to his Imperial Highness, the Emperor Melnion." Another bow. "And now, I believe there are rooms waiting for you, with hot baths already drawn," he looked us up and down and a slight twitch of his upper lip belied the disdain in which he viewed us. "You will be expected to dine with his Highness tonight promptly at eight-o'clock. I will personally return to your rooms to guide you to the Great Hall," with that, Filiby turned his back to us and started down a side corridor without looking back, obviously expecting to be followed.  
  
With a slight shrug of his shoulders, Rorimac started after Master Filiby, his lengthy strides eating up the distance between them in no time. The rest of us shared a guarded glance before hurrying to catch up. "We'll have to keep our eyes and ears open here," Legolas warned. "It is watching us." 


	9. Death's Assassin

NINTH INSTALLMENT FOR QUEST FOR THE RINGS  
  
9. Death's Assassin "Whoa," was all Rorimac could think to say as he entered his suite. The high vaulted ceiling was covered with elaborate paintings of past kings and queens in all their regal splendor. Great windows lined the east side of the room, letting the last rays of sunlight fall warmly onto the plush rugs lining the floor. A deep, leather easy chair sat welcomingly in front of a currently cold hearth, the logs laying stacked and ready to light for the evening. Eyes wide, Rorimac stepped in and dropped his meager belongings on the table. The rest of us filed in behind him.  
  
"Nice accommodations," I commented dryly, craning my neck around to take everything in.  
  
"Hmm, yes indeed. Emperor Melnion treats his guests to every courtesy," Master Filiby ventured from behind us. "Now, Miss Silvereye, Master Gandalf, Master Greenleaf, if you would follow me, I'll direct you to your own rooms. They're all conveniently located in this corridor as well."  
  
"Conveniently for whom?" Legolas whispered. "Check your room first thing after he leaves you, Tarrodwen," he said quietly, looking at me and then at Rorimac. "I don't trust him." I nodded in response, and then gave the frowning Master Filiby a gracious smile.  
  
"So sorry to keep you, Master Filiby. We're coming," I told him reassuringly as I walked past him and out the door. He left Gandalf and Legolas at rooms just as magnificent as the one Rorimac now occupied, leaving his promises of returning in an hour or so to retrieve them for dinner.  
  
As the last, he led me farther down the brightly lit hallway to another set of double bronze doors. Opening them grandly before me he said, "And this is your suite, Miss Silvereye. I do hope you enjoy your rooms. They are the finest in the guest wing, reserved specifically for the great ladies of the court," his pseudo-smile was oily and grated on my nerves. I had no idea how he could wear such a false grin for so long without his cheeks aching and the smile sliding off his face and into a greasy blob on the floor.  
  
"Thank you for this undue courtesy," I replied as pleasantly as I could, my stomach sickening just looking at this man. He held his slimy smile one moment longer before bowing slightly and backing out of the room, looking at me the entire time. By the time the door had finally closed behind him I felt dirty and disgusted.  
  
"Thank goodness for the bath," I said thankfully. Setting my bag down on marble floor and my staff against the bed, I walked over to another door, presumably the bathroom. As my hand touched the handle, I stopped suddenly. 'Check your room first thing' Legolas had said, and here I was thinking only of my bath. Silently cursing myself for a fool, I nonchalantly searched my room first with my eyes. After not finding any immediate danger in sight, I set to carefully checking all the nooks and crannies of the room, under the bed, behind the curtains, the closet, the bathroom, and the drawers of the antique bureau. I finished off my search by pulling up all the soft rugs, looking for trap doors and hidden escapes. Finding nothing, I shrugged and turned back to my waiting bath.  
  
As I opened the door, the aroma of flowery bath oils filled my nose, immediately beginning their relaxing work and taking Master Filiby far from my mind. I breathed it in down to my toes, savoring the beautiful smell. Leaving the door open to where I could just see the entrance to my room, I disrobed quickly and sank down into the steaming water. It felt so wonderful to sit in a bathtub again; I sat back against the rest and concentrated on enjoying my bath. I could literally feel the cramps and aches flowing out, leaving my body blissfully relaxed.  
  
After sitting with my eyes closed for several moments, I realized that I only had about an hour before Master Filiby came back. I needed to be dressed and ready to go early, however, so I could visit Legolas before the dinner. Thinking about him put a soft smile on my lips and I let a sigh escaped me. I realized I could sit and be happy forever, just thinking about him. Then again, being near to him in real life was much better. With this enlivening thought, I stepped out of the brass tub and quickly toweled off with one of the softest towels I had ever felt. I slipped into the velvety robe left on a chair, and walked back into my room.  
  
Stopping short of my bed, I said aloud, "What am I going to wear?" Dismayed, I realized I had nothing that would even come close to being decent for the dinner. Before now, just staying alive and reaching our destination had been the largest concern. Attire had never even crossed my mind as relating to importance.  
  
Sitting down on my bed with a frown, I glanced around my room, my eyes falling to the antique bureau. A small, brightly colored piece of silk stuck out from the corner of one of the swinging doors. With a small smile I walked over and opened up the wardrobe. Inside were several elegant dresses, lined up by color, all my size.  
  
"Perfect!" I exclaimed, pulling out a teal, silk dress. It was light and airy, with several transparent layers that seemed to flow down my body, highlighting my every curve. The neck dipped low and the fittedness of the sleeves left off just above my elbows, fabric billowing out all the way down to my calves. Feeling like a princess, I twirled around, letting my long sleeves fan out around me. I found a pair of matching shoes at the bottom of the bureau and slipped them on, once again finding a perfect fit.  
  
As I was admiring myself in the mirror, a soft knock sounded at my door. "Who is it?" I called reaching for my staff, jolted out of my preening and suddenly wary once more.  
  
"Legolas."  
  
"Oh," releasing the tension in my stance, I allowed a shiver to crawl pleasantly up my spine. "Come in."  
  
Carefully opening the door, Legolas stepped inside; his tall, white boots squeaking a little on the marble floor. He was resplendent in his robes of pearly white, gold embroidering on the collar and shoulders and down the sides of his pants. His flowing blonde hair lay in neatly combed waves down his neck, his blue eyes glowing intensely. At that moment he truly looked the part of an elfin prince.  
  
"Hmm," he said with a smile, his fingers coming up to stroke his chin in a comical fashion. "I'm thinking either the dress doesn't match the staff, or the staff doesn't match the dress." Smiling sheepishly, I returned my staff to its stance against the wall.  
  
"Please come in," I finally remembered to say. "What am I supposed to do with my hands?" I wondered irrationally as Legolas turned around to close the large brass door. "I've always had a pocket or knapsack or sleeve or something to occupy my hands with. This is a dress! Ooh, do I look silly in this thing to him?" Legolas strode over to me as I tried clinching my hands together, then letting them drop at my sides, then pulling them back behind me. With laughter in his eyes he reached out to me and took my fumbling hands in his.  
  
"You look beautiful," was all he said, and he need not have said anything more. His crystal clear eyes spoke volumes as he slowly pulled me into him. He let go of one of my hands and placed his at the small of my back, the contours of my skin easily felt beneath the thin fabric. "My beloved, my heart, my soul mate," such simple words with such complex and wonderful meanings. I could have died happily right then, just having heard those words from him; and I nearly did.  
  
Leaning in to once more taste his sweet lips, the air between us came alive with a whizzing hum. Legolas jerked back in surprise, knocking me off balance and onto the bed. His eyes followed the air stream in a rapid, darting movement landing directly on an identical pair of yellow-fletched darts lodged deep into the wooden bed post. His head whipped back in the opposite direction, taking in the angle of the darts to determine from where they could have originated. High above our heads, his acute elfin ears picked up the slight sound of shuffling.  
  
"Shh," Legolas whispered, holding a finger up in my direction. "They're in the walls."  
  
Too shocked to even have thought of saying something, I immediately dropped down onto the floor and huddled up against the edge of the bed for cover. Crouching down beside me, Legolas silently searched the rest of the cunningly painted ceiling for any other opening his sharp eyes could find.  
  
Carefully, Legolas plucked the darts from the bedpost and examined the ends. A dry, filmy, black layer covered the tips of both darts, as if they had been dipped in a kind of paint. "Poison, no doubt. Though of what variety, I couldn't say," wrapping them in a handkerchief, Legolas returned the darts to the pocket from which he had produced the cloth. Thinking of Gandalf and Rorimac, we speedily made our way to the door.  
  
Outside, the corridor was deserted. We casually made our way down to Gandalf's room and knocked discreetly on the doors. No answer. I gave Legolas a worried look, assuming the worst. "Gandalf," I called quietly, to no avail. Legolas tried the handle and to his surprise the door opened obligingly inward. Cautiously, he peered inside. Seeing no one, he opened the door fully and walked in.  
  
"He's not here," Legolas said finally after checking the room. "Let's go to Rorimac's."  
  
"Do you think they took him?" I asked as we passed back into the hall navigating toward Gandalf's room. He did not answer, but threw me a bleak look. "Wait," I grabbed Legolas' arm to stop him. "Look, the door's open." Creeping silently to it, and I peeked inside.  
  
A sharp intake of breath alerted Legolas to a wrongness in Tarrodwen's line of vision. Before he could grab her, Tarrodwen lunged into the room and all but skidded to a halt at the foot of Rorimac's bed. Cursing silently, Legolas had no choice but to follow her in and cover her back.  
  
He was not ready for the sight that met his eyes in that room. Rorimac lay gasping on the cold, marble floor, his body curled into an unnatural ball and his hands clamped sharply to his stomach.  
  
"Rorimac!" I yelled, trying to hold him still as he began rocking back and forth and moaning. "Legolas, help me!" I pleaded, tears in my eyes.  
  
"Stand away, Tarrodwen," he said calmingly. Firmly holding Rorimac's shoulder to the floor with one hand, Legolas gently placed the palm of his other hand on Rorimac's forehead. He spoke softly in elvish, a faint blue light emanating from the tips of his fingers.  
  
"Elvin Healing," I whispered to myself, remembering my own experience. I watched enthralled as Rorimac quit whimpering and eased his grip on his stomach under the Legolas' soothing hand. Soon, he ceased moving altogether and the pained look on his face melted away to blissful oblivion.  
  
Legolas looked pale and drawn as he removed his palm from Rorimac's forehead. "Let's move him to the bed," he said quietly. Gently as we could, we lifted Rorimac's heavy, comatose figure onto the down quilted bed. His mouth a grim line, Legolas reached down and pulled a yellow-fletched dart from Rorimac's calf.  
  
"The poison is quick to take effect, but slow to kill." Legolas' voice was barely above a whisper, but an undertone of tight control belied his rage. "It is now clear why Emperor Melnion wanted us here," Legolas spat, his hands clenching and unclenching. "To kill us."  
  
"Then he knows what we seek," I replied, worried. "How could-" but a loud knock on the door froze the words in my mouth. 


	10. Prisoners of an Introduction

TENTH INSTALLMENT FOR QUEST FOR THE RINGS  
  
10. Prisoners of an Introduction  
  
"May I come in?" Master Filiby's voice floated to us from the other side of the door.  
  
"What do we do?" I asked Legolas, panicked. "He had to have known about this, Legolas, we can't let him see Rorimac!" Thinking quickly, Legolas let out his breath in a rush.  
  
"Ok, just follow my lead, and let me do the talking," he said somewhat cryptically. "Pray enter, Master Filiby," he called, his voice resonating with a confidence he did not feel. Filiby peeked into the room with a slightly puzzled look on his face, which turned to incredulity when he saw Tarrodwen and Legolas standing there. As quickly as it came, all emotion on Filiby's face vanished to be replaced once more by that sickening smile.  
  
"Ah, Master Greenleaf! Miss Silvereye! I'm glad to see you all together- Good Heavens, what is wrong with Master Ironhand?" Filiby stopped in mid- greeting when he saw Rorimac lying unconscious on the bed.  
  
"I'm sorry to say that Rorimac has taken ill, Master Filiby," Legolas began. "He complained of a blinding headache, no doubt from the exhausting travel and lack of sleep," he lied glibly.  
  
"Oh?" Master Filiby raised an eyebrow as he looked over Rorimac's still form. "I do hope it's nothing serious."  
  
"It is not, I assure you. He has been prone to these little attacks and I'm confident he'll recover. I've given him a pain killing medicine and a sleeping draught, which should get him back on his feet soon enough," Legolas smiled at him winningly before raising a hand in Rorimac's general direction.  
  
"However, as you can plainly see, he is in no condition to dine with His Highness tonight, but we gladly promised to give Emperor Melnion his regrets and apologies."  
  
"I see," Filiby replied, his smile slipping slightly. "Well then, we had best retrieve the venerated Master Gandalf and proceed to the dining hall with all haste. It would not be wise to keep your esteemed host waiting." With one last suspicious look at Rorimac, Master Filiby spun on his heel and exited the room.  
  
"Smooth, Legolas," I said appreciatively, letting the tension out of my shoulders. "But what are we going to do about Gandalf? We have no idea where he is."  
  
"I suggest we stick to the truth there," he replied. "Come on, we can't keep our esteemed host waiting," Legolas said as he offered me an arm and led me out of Rorimac's room. We found Filiby already waiting out in the hall, his foot tapping in irritation.  
  
"Now where, pray-tell, is Master Gandalf?" he asked us as we approached.  
  
"I'm sure we have no idea, Master Filiby," I replied in all honesty. "I haven't seen him since you last left us. Perhaps he left to seek someone out before we dined and has not yet returned," I suggested.  
  
"Be that as it may, we must proceed without him. His Highness will not be kept waiting," he said with stiff superiority. "Come along, I suppose Emperor Melnion will have to make due with just two out of your party tonight."  
  
"Something in his attitude rings false," Legolas whispered as we followed Master Filiby at a respectful distance. "Did you notice the shocked look on his face when he found both of us in Rorimac's room, alive?" Glancing conspiratorially at Master Filiby who was still walking swiftly up the corridor without so much as a backward glance, I replied,  
  
"And he seemed none too surprised nor phased with the disappearance of Gandalf."  
  
"He knows what's going on here, even if we don't, and we can be sure that what Filiby knows, Melnion knows. We'll have to watch our backs carefully tonight, Tarrodwen."  
  
"Our backs and our food," I replied somewhat miserably.  
  
"Gods, how are we supposed to do that?" he asked, the desperation evident in his voice.  
  
"Please do keep up," Master Filiby called irritably. "The dining hall is just ahead. I will introduce you."  
  
Swirling to a halt in front of a set of massive oak doors, Master Filiby adjusted his blood red robes. A thick gold ring resting on the hilt of a dagger was embroidered in gold thread on the left breast; the personal sigil of the Emperor. Fixing us with a somewhat contemptuous stare, he rapped smartly on the doors, gaining access to the room beyond.  
  
The great dining hall in the Imperial Palace was by far the largest and grandest room Tarrodwen had ever seen. In awed silence, she lifted her eyes to the vaulted ceiling. It seemed to go on for miles. Massive, white marble columns lined the walls at regular intervals, shooting upward like frozen streams of pure light. It looked as if the entire solar system had been painted on the ceiling, the stars winking with reflected light from the torches ensconced on the walls. A long, polished oak table stretched the length of the hall, completely filled with the lords and ladies of Geldrion; an ornately carved throne perched at its head.  
  
The entire room had fallen into a curious silence as soon as Legolas and Tarrodwen entered. Questioning eyes searched them from top to bottom as Master Filiby cleared his voice. "My lords and ladies of Geldrion, may I introduce to you his Majesty Emperor Melnion's special guests for the evening, Master Legolas Greenleaf and Miss Tarrodwen Silvereye." Brief nods of welcome and hushed remarks greeted his announcement, but Master Filiby paid them no mind.  
  
Poking Legolas and I gently in the back, Filiby urged us forward toward the towering throne sitting empty at the head of the table. As we walked, the general conversation resumed and occasional bouts of laughter could be heard among the lords and ladies. When at last we reached the end, Master Filiby seated us to the left of the throne, before seating himself at the right hand side.  
  
After waiting in an uncomfortable silence for several minutes, I quietly asked Master Filiby, "Where is the Emperor?"  
  
"He will be here when it suits him to be here," Master Filiby replied loftily with a dismissive wave of his hand.  
  
"And he thought, we'd be late!" I whispered to Legolas as Filiby made some comment to the lord next to him. Legolas' reply was drowned out by the sudden blare of a trumpet. All conversation along the table ceased once more and the guests all stood respectfully. With a quick glance at Master Filiby, who was discreetly urging us to stand with an upward twitch of a finger, Legolas and I took the cue and rose to face the set of side doors.  
  
The ruler of the Isle of Geldrion, Lord of the Golden Palace, and Protector of the Peace in the Imperial City, his royal Highness Emperor Melnion was an impressive sight indeed. He was nearly six-foot-five, with shocking green eyes and a wealth of black hair heavily streaked with noble lines of silver. Half of his face remained covered by a well-kept beard that matched his ebony and silver hair. The years had done little to soften his hard and angular features, and the only visible lines on his visage were irritated cracks at the corners of his thin mouth. He was clad in a fine shirt of silk, dyed crimson, the ring on the dagger of his personal sigil glittering on the breast. Pants of the same red were tucked severely into the tops of knee-high, polished, black boots, and a scarlet cape heavily embroidered with gold thread, hung casually down his back and nearly to the floor.  
  
He surveyed the assembled guests with aloof disinterest before waving his hand for the feast to begin, never saying a single word. As we were seated, Emperor Melnion finally decided to grace us with his attention. "A bit depleted, I see," he remarked calmly with an upraised eyebrow. When all he received in answer from me was a slightly puzzled look, he continued, "Your fellowship, I mean."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
With his back pressed tightly to the cold marble wall, Gandalf peered warily around the next dark corner. Nothing. All was quiet and still as a grave. It only made Gandalf the more uneasy. Six passages, six cautious turns, and not so much as a page to be seen. It seemed this whole end of the castle was utterly deserted. Creeping on silent feet, he continued farther into the gloom of the west wing.  
  
The sconces on the wall held no torches, lit or otherwise, and the soot marks above them were light. Gandalf also noticed that there were no suites leading off from this hall like the ones he and the others occupied. There were no doors, no windows, no shallow nooks carved into the walls for expensive pieces of ugly art-only the endless rows of empty sconces. This was obviously a seldom-used corridor, but he knew it was, in fact used by someone. The years of inattention had allowed a thick film of dust to coat the floor and even Gandalf's aged eyes could pick out the row of footprints. They were off the side and single file, but even so, Gandalf saw the size of the print was consistent throughout. There was only one person who ever came down here.  
  
A silent thirty minutes went by before Gandalf found himself at a dead end. There was nothing further but a blank, stone wall. The footprints simply disappeared from that point. "Well, I'm sure whoever comes down here does not just turn around and leave again for good health," Gandalf muttered as he placed himself in the footprints and began to feel the wall in front of him for a hidden release.  
  
Another ten minutes of searching brought him no closer to whatever lay beyond than he had been when he had walked out of his room a good hour ago. Frustrated, Gandalf turned and leaned his head against the hall wall to think a minute. With a horrible grating sound the dead-end wall began to slide sideways. Eyes widening in surprise, Gandalf turned and looked at the spot where he had rested. Sure enough, there on the wall, at head height, was a swirl of marble that looked slightly out of place with its brothers. Upon examining it sideways, he realized it protruded slightly from the wall, but was indistinguishable when looking at it from head on, as he had been.  
  
"Hmm, when all else fails, use your head," he smiled at his joke before stepping carefully onto the descending stairwell uncovered by the wall. He slowly made his way down the steps in complete darkness until he came to a slightly warped, wooden door. "I must be well underneath the castle by now." Although he figured it was locked, Gandalf gave the door a sharp push anyway and was taken by surprise when it opened easily and he all but tumbled through.  
  
A blast of stifling hot air hit him full in the face and for a moment Gandalf knew nothing but the burning of his lungs. He thought he had only closed his eyes for a moment to reorient himself, but when he opened them again, he found his hands tied and stretched high above his head and his ankles manacled to the floor. "Where." was all he got out before a shadow fell across his body and he found himself looking up at an evil pair of eyes and a mouth twisted into a cruel smile.  
  
  
  
  
  
Alrighty my faithful readers, I need at least 10 reviews before I'll post my next chapter. I hope you're enjoying it! ~Adularia 


	11. Of Dinners and Dragons

ELEVENTH INSTALLMENT FOR QUEST FOR THE RINGS  
  
11. Of Dinners and Dragons  
  
"I've been waiting for you, old man," Melnion purred. His contented smile curled his thin lips, but never reached his eyes. "I just knew I'd find you snooping around where you obviously do not belong," he shook his head in mock disappointment. "It really speaks very little of you, Gandalf, that you must resort to creeping through my palace when I'm not looking. Especially when you know you'll never get what you're searching for."  
  
Gandalf's gray eyes blazed, but he took the time to wriggle against his chains before replying, "I know you have the ring, Melnion, and we're here to claim it."  
  
"Oh, is that so?" Melnion raised his eyebrow and let out a short laugh. "Well by all means, claim away. But I'll warn you," he continued threateningly, "it'll take a lot more than a feeble 'claim' to wrest this ring from me."  
  
"But don't you see what it's doing to your city?" Gandalf implored incredulously. "You're killing it. Destroying it with the corruption from that twisted piece of metal." Squatting comfortably on his heels, Melnion leaned in closer to Gandalf; the cruel twitch that passed for a smile returning to his lips.  
  
"Do you really think I care at all for this rock-ridden city?" he mocked. "Or for the starving peasants? They are a means to an end. Nothing more. Simply a means to a very important end."  
  
Melnion crossed his arms on his chest as he watched Gandalf stretch, relieving the pressure from his bound wrists. "Would you care to learn of this end?" he inquired. The Emperor continued when Gandalf remained silent, "I believe you got a glimpse of my little 'project' when you blundered your way through my door. As I'm sure you remember, it was stiflingly hot behind that door; and that was only an antechamber.  
  
"The rooms connecting to it reach deep inside this mountain, to the very bowels of the isle. Do you know how islands are made, Gandalf? Huge stores of liquid hot magma boil away inside the earth until they find an outlet to the surface, where they burst forth and then cool. Layer upon layer erupt and cool on the surface, and before you know it, there's an island.  
  
"Well, I've tapped into that store of lava, Gandalf, and I'm channeling its heat," with the mention of the trapped inferno, Melnion's eyes began to glow with an unholy fervor. "And do you know what I'm doing with all that heat?" his face was now inches from Gandalf's, and he was breathing more heavily with each passing word.  
  
"I haven't a clue, your Highness," Gandalf replied tersely, afraid of the answer, "Do fill me in."  
  
"I'm incubating eggs, Gandalf.dragon eggs." Dragons. The word reverberated in Gandalf's mind, half stunning him with its implications.  
  
"Wh-what are you doing with dragon eggs," he asked hoarsely.  
  
"Why, hatching dragons, of course," he replied. "They are my wings to domination. With a host of dragons, all in Middle Earth will cower before me," throwing his head back triumphantly, he let out a long, loud laugh. "And those puny peasants are helping me keep the eggs at a constant, blazing temperature. Unfortunately, it's a little too hot for them, and I'm losing laborers in droves. That's why I've recently employed some imported goblins, and an orc, here and there."  
  
"How did you find these dragon eggs?" Gandalf pushed.  
  
"With the ring. It led me right to them. Led me to that secret panel at the end of the west wing; led me through the latticework of passages to the very deepest, hottest cavern in the isle; led me straight to the nest where the hundreds of eggs lay abandoned and forgotten. I'm their caregiver, their only hope. I will raise them, and they will obey the ring; they will obey me," he chuckled under his breath. "So you see, Gandalf, there's really no way I can just give up my ring. And certainly no way I can just let you; knowing what you do.  
  
"I'm afraid it really leaves me no choice but to kill you. And how I will enjoy it so, but alas, my banquet calls, and I am already late. I suppose I will just have to wait to dispose of you, as I want to do it.personally." Dusting off imaginary dirt from his tunic, Melnion stood up and headed for the door.  
  
"Oh, I'm sure you'll enjoy your stay in the cramped, iron cage I've picked out for you. When I return, I'll run you a bath of hot magma to.warm you up," with one last chuckle and disdainful glance in Gandalf's direction, Melnion strode from the chamber.  
  
As soon as he had exited, a pair of stocky, putrid-green goblins gamboled in and roughly removed him from the chains. With no more care than one would give a sandbag, the crusty goblins heaved Gandalf into a heavy iron cage, and slammed the only opening shut. They gave him a few low chuckles and cracked smiles before leaving Gandalf alone with his thoughts.  
  
Gandalf took a deep breath and leaned his head back against the cage in defeat. The peculiar, rotten-egg smell permeated the whiff, and again tickled his memory. "Sulfur," he muttered. "Dragons. I should have known. Legolas was right. 'Very sulfurous. The earth is wise and should be listened to very carefully. It often tells what men will not.' Hmm, well he told enough. His dragons are starving the people; it's the sulfur from the dragon eggs that's ruining what little farmland is available on this isle."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Why would you call us that? A fellowship, I mean?" I asked the Emperor suspiciously.  
  
"Oh, would you rather I called you a companionship? Or a comradeship? I couldn't very well call you a brotherhood, as I can plainly see you are quite an attractive woman," he gave me an oily smile and slowly stroked his beard. A plain, gold ring glittered enticingly on his finger, and immediately caught Legolas' eye.  
  
"That is a beautiful ring, your Highness," he said carefully. "Simple, yet elegant. And very finely crafted. Where did you come by such work?" Fixing Melnion with an innocent, yet inquisitive look, Legolas gratefully ignored the food set in front of him. I took my cue from him and also laid down the fork with which I had been poking disinterestedly at my fish.  
  
"Well, it is actually the same ring you see on my personal sigil," he began as if he were telling a great story. "My great-grandfather came to this isle with a group of thieves, escaping justice. In short, my family took a major role in leadership and came to rule the steadily growing population. When they asked my grandfather to take the title of Emperor, and simply give a name to the power he held, he took the dagger as his personal symbol; to represent the thief, which his father had been when they came to this isle."  
  
As he began his story, the entire length of the great table had gone nearly silent, listening avidly to every word the Emperor had to say. I was afraid that I would sneeze, and break the spell of attention, calling the wrath of the Emperor onto my head. To my relief, however, my nose made no such move, and I could concentrate once again on the Emperor unraveling his tale.  
  
"My grandfather added the gold ring on the hilt of the dagger because of his affinity for this ring here." Taking it off, Melnion rolled the ring slowly between his thumb and forefinger; all the while staring intently at it. He took up the story once again, but this time with a slightly far-off tone to his voice.  
  
"He accredited all his fortune and power to this ring, my grandfather. Claimed it was a lucky ring. It is said that he never took it off." his words trailed away, and for a moment, the deafening silence rang shrilly in my ears.  
  
With a quick, unexpected movement, Melnion shoved the ring almost greedily back onto his finger, and hastily hid his hands under the table. His hard eyes surveyed the still guests for a fraction of a moment, before he unnecessarily raised his voice and said, "This is a feast, is it not?" he paused. "Well then, make with the eating." The hall immediately sprang back into life with the clanging of dinnerware and a surge of nervous conversation.  
  
Well satisfied that his guests were back to their own business, Melnion returned his sharp gaze to Legolas. "So tell me, Master Greenleaf, what brings you and your.friends.to my doorstep?"  
  
I was glad he had not addressed the question to me. I had no plausible answer on hand; save for the real reason we were here, and I had a feeling it would be self-defeating to explain that one. Fortunately, Legolas was a much smoother liar, and replied coolly,  
  
"Home became mundane. We were in need of a bit of traveling, and excitement. The rumors, of course, led us here."  
  
"Rumors?" Melnion inquired, with an upraised eyebrow. "And what rumors were strong enough to pull you halfway around the world to our pariah of an island?"  
  
"Rumors of a ghost ship," I supplied. He swung his head back in my direction and fixed me with an interested gaze. "A black ship, manned by the ghosts of horribly mutilated orcs. It is said that it patrols the waters close to this isle and attacks unwary ships."  
  
"Is that so?" he replied, that smug twitch of a smile returning. "And did you run into any trouble with such a ship?"  
  
"No," I answered, calmly looking straight into his eyes. Their steely interiors seemed to dig into my soul, and held me frozen for an instant. "But then again," I managed to continue, "there are still the tortured shrieks that are said to reverberate from inside the very depths of the isle. However, I have yet to hear those either."  
  
"Indeed," Melnion's face was unreadable as he sat back in his enormous chair. "Well," he finally said after a heavy moment of silence. "I think I will retire. I extend my invitation to lodge here at the palace for the duration of your stay."  
  
"Thank you, your Highness," Legolas replied cordially. The Emperor nodded graciously and stood. The rest of the table stood with him, and I quickly found myself on my feet as well.  
  
"Filiby will escort you back to your suites. I bid you all a good night." As he exited, Filiby, who had been utterly silent and unnoticeable throughout the meal, began issuing commands in a brisk voice.  
  
"Come along Miss Silvereye, Master Greenleaf. I will return you to your rooms." 


	12. Into the Heat

TWELFTH INSTALLMENT FOR QUEST FOR THE RINGS  
  
12. Into the heat  
  
"I trust you'll sleep well." Master Filiby's departing remark seemed both insincere and ridiculous, given that there had already been an attempt on our lives that night. I thanked him for it nonetheless, before I slipped through the bronze double doors and into the relative safety of my room. I had nearly reached the bed when a knock at my door put me at guard.  
  
"It's me," Legolas called from outside. Of course, I thought sheepishly. Would danger really come in through the front door? And did I think it would be so polite as to knock before entering? I called for him to come in and quickly crossed the intervening space in as long strides as my dress would permit. When he entered, he closed the doors behind him and took me in his arms. Feeling my body sink into his, I breathed a deep sigh of relief.  
  
"We made it through dinner," I commented.  
  
"We did, but did Rorimac?" he asked, which completely ruined my mood, bringing back the knot of fear in my stomach. "We'd better go see him." I reluctantly disentangled myself from his lithe, strong arms, and we quickly made our way down to Rorimac's room.  
  
We found him all but unchanged, lying on the bed where we had left him. I lifted my hand to his forehead, and discovered a cool layer of sweat. Minute rivulets ran down his temples to his thick neck, and disappeared into the pillow behind his head.  
  
"His breathing is regular and his pulse is strong," Legolas assured me. "He'll be fine. Who I'm really worried about, is Gandalf."  
  
"It's not like him to just disappear and leave us no warning," I agreed. "He must have decided to do a little extra exploring, and is either lost or.discovered," I finished.  
  
"There is only one course left to us. We have to leave Rorimac and search for Gandalf. Go change into your tunic and meet me back here as soon as you are able." I nodded once and followed him out to the hallway. Although I worried about Gandalf and his mysterious disappearance, I felt almost certain that leaving Rorimac again would mean his death.  
  
I found my clothing exactly where I had left it on the end of the bed. I slipped out of the silk dress, which whispered pleasantly as it slid off my skin, and hurriedly garbed myself again.  
  
Craning his elegant neck, Legolas peered around yet another of the ceaseless corners into a corridor that looked identical to the preceding one. With a nod, he beckoned me to follow him into the silent hall. "We don't have any idea whether or not he passed this way," I commented after that hall failed to yield any clues as to Gandalf's whereabouts. "We're playing this 'hit or miss'. He could be in the complete opposite direction." No sooner were the words out of my mouth, than we entered a corridor unlike any of the others we had passed.  
  
It was dark. There were no lit torches to illuminate this hall; in fact, it was only the empty sconces that suggested that light had ever seen this corridor. A heavy layer of dust had collected over the carpet, a testament to the complete lack of activity in the area. We were in the west wing.  
  
"Look," Legolas said softly. "Footprints, on the left side."  
  
"Are they Gandalf's?"  
  
"I can't tell, but more than one someone has used this corridor recently. It is our best lead." The footprints lead steadily toward the obscured end of the west wing corridor, but when we reached it, Legolas let out a grunt of surprise. "They just end. The footprints lead to nowhere."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Oof!" his head cracked painfully against the iron bars of the cage as Gandalf jerked awake. His conscious was immediately assaulted by the cramping in his legs, and back, and neck. He did not have to suffer much longer; the goblin guards thrust the rusted key into the lock, and roughly hauled Gandalf out.  
  
Falling onto his hands and knees, Gandalf's world reeled as pain swamped his mind and the blood rushed back into dead limbs. He could barely lift his head to glare at the proudly tall form of Melnion who wore a twisted half-smile as he gazed down at his prisoner.  
  
"It's a pity you couldn't make it to dinner, Gandalf," he began. "It was really quite a splendid affair, what with an Elf in attendance. We don't often see many of their kind here," Melnion continued in a conversational tone, all the while addressing the prostrate old man on the floor. "But, oh, it was such a shame that Master Rorimac was unable to attend as well. I'm sure he had as valid an excuse for missing it as you did." His lips curled cruelly upward with the suggestion. Gandalf bent his neck until his forehead touched the warm floor stones. Rorimac, dead! And soon enough I'll join him.  
  
"Oh, not to worry, Master Gandalf, I would never leave Tarrodwen and Legolas out. I'm sure you'll all be reunited shortly. In fact, I'll personally ensure that you're there to greet them.on the other side." Melnion made a short gesture to the waiting guards, and abruptly they hauled Gandalf up by the armpits and dragged him after the already retreating figure of the emperor.  
  
Melnion strode towards a corridor that emitted a suffocating heat. He led the guards deeper and deeper into his inferno; the heat intensified with every step. By the time they reached the first chamber of nests, Gandalf was delirious and nearly unconscious from the extreme temperature. His vision blurred and the scarlet form of the emperor melted into the swirling surroundings.  
  
The heat affected Melnion not at all. Showing no signs of physical discomfort, the emperor strode on with an air of confidence. As they reached the vast cavern, the first of the dragon egg nests, Melnion felt his pulse begin to quicken. He was so close to his dream, his destiny! "Soon," he whispered to glassy-shelled obelisks, "Soon."  
  
Melnion swirled to a stop at the edge of giant pool of magma. The goblin guards hauled their burden to their master's feet and let him fall into heap before retreating several paces. Sweat ran down their hideous cheeks and dripped off the tips of crooked noses, but the goblins paid it no mind; they had fixed their beady, black eyes on the emperor, waiting to see the punishment he extolled on the unfortunate prisoner.  
  
"Your time is up, Gandalf. Your quest has failed. Now, while witnessing what will be my ultimate victory and glory, you will die knowing I conquered." When Gandalf made no move, the emperor's jaw clenched tight and a hatred burning with the intensity of the surrounding fire blazed in his eyes. He bent and roughly grabbed the old man's chin, lifting the fevered face up to his own, hoping to see in it some sign of terror, but all he could find was determined resignation. Disgust and loathing filled Melnion as he gazed into the visage of the once mighty Gandalf.  
  
"You are nothing," he spat. "And now you will die!" With a sudden surge of rage, Melnion grabbed Gandalf's tunic and pulled his arm back taught, ready to hurl the old man into the liquid rock.  
  
Crack! The ear-splitting sound reverberated throughout the cavern, and Melnion's muscles froze instantly. Eagerly, his eyes searched out the source, and at last they came to rest on a glassy egg, its surface swirled scarlet and black. A deep fissure marred the otherwise perfect exterior. 


End file.
